Passing Time
by Josette Mynx
Summary: Years have passed since the Samurai freed the village. For some people it is harder to move on than others. Kirara can't seem to forget. As the annual festival celebrating the victory nears, will things change? KiraraxKatsu  UNDER REVISION


I Dont Own Anything. This story will be somewhat short. Not more than four or five chapters I think. Just want to show this couple some love.

-being edited, my goal is to never have a chapter under 1,800 words in length, as well as doing a better job editing with grammar and punctuation. So far this is about half way done being edited.

* * *

><p>Kirara shifted her weight from foot to foot slowly, easing the weight off of her feet as she finished stretching. She had only just finished her work in the rice fields for the day, and she could see the slow setting of the sun in the distance. The town was quieting down as families returned to their huts and small children were pushed off to bed after a quick dinner. There would be a very large village meeting in a few hours, and the elders had already headed to the hall to discuss the upcoming events.<p>

She could hear the soft clink of the dowsing necklace as Komachi bounced up to her, giving a cheerful wave. The sound was incredibly comforting and almost just as painful at the same time; too many memories were associated with it.

"Gran says my lessons are going really well! I've been getting a lot better lately!" Komachi said, smiling softly; everyone treated her like a piece of glass only seconds from shattering. She could handle it from the rest of the town's people, but having it come from Komachi had startled Kirara at first. It would pass soon enough; she only acted this way around this time of year, and Kirara preferred the bubbly version of her little sister.

She nodded, attempting to look encouraging; she knew that Komachi hadn't had it as easy as Kirara had when she first started, but from what she had heard, she had taken to her priestess duties quite well lately, as she had started moving through her lessons twice as fast as she had previously.

After the remaining three samurai had left the village a few years ago she had given up being the priestess and passed it down to her younger sister. Kirara was no longer suitable. She had seen war, and had washed blood off of her hands. She had taken the sins of killings in order to spare others. She was no longer fit for the job. She had started wondering if she was ever fit for the job.

Komachi shuffled a bit and then wrapped a stray strand of short brown hair around her finger, obviously trying to think of something to say, and failing. She sighed, though it was almost a huff.

"Well I hope you have a good evening! Sleep well!" Komachi smiled again before dashing off down the dirt road back to Gran's home.

Kirara had her own small hut now, which was something that many of the villagers did not approve of, especially a few of the older men. A young unmarried woman living by herself. It set a bad precedent apparently. Komachi still lived with their grandmother; she was still learning the ways of the priestess, and would continue learning for a year or two more. Komachi was still too young to venture out on her own, still younger than Kirara when she had set out on her adventure to find the samurai, if only by a couple of years. And she had a feeling that Komachi had been too young during the war to have the seemingly permanent restless feeling that Kirara carried with her now.

The town meeting tonight would probably be about the festival; in fact it would most definitely be about it. Her small village now held a festival once a year on the anniversary of the day they were set free, the day that they lost some great and wonderful men, some of the greatest men she had ever known. Everyone ate rice to their fill to remember the meager payment those heroes had accepted when they agreed to help them, and then at the end of the festival the village collectively made the trip up to the hill where the samurai had been buried and left candles and incense at their graves along with a single bowl of rice each.

The festival itself was three days away, but the final preparations still had to be made. Rikichi and Komachi still had to finish the small area for the children to play in. Rikichi usually told the tale of the battle to the small children, as he was more accurate, but the children tended to like Komachi's more bombastic version, with the brightly colored robot samurai as the hero. The stands for rice still had to be set in place, and Kirara knew they were looking for a few more volunteers to cook food. This happened every year, and every year it all somehow fell into place.

She briefly wondered if Shichiroji and Yukino would come, as they usually did, but she had gotten a letter from them some time ago saying that she was with child. A long journey to a small village such as theirs might not be the best idea for a pregnant woman.

As Kirara made her way back to her hut she caught the looks that the villagers were giving her. This happened every year, another reason perhaps why she herself was not involved in the festival. Her involvement in the battles and the war had always been public knowledge. She had been the one to find them, thus she had been directly in the middle of almost all of the great events. Even being kidnapped herself at one point. And with all of this it had become public knowledge that she had been in love with a samurai during those dangerous times.

She heard the whispers. That it had been years, that she should be married by now. Some of the more sympathetic women would say something along the lines of "But after loving a man like that, how can you settle for a farmer?" while others would accuse her of thinking that she was too good to settle down with some young farmer boy. She knew she had had the opportunity to get married, to start up a family of her own, just as the other girls her age had. She knew that she was considered pretty, and many of the young men in the village had attempted "courting" her. She just couldn't imagine herself settling down after all that had happened.

All of the conversations went the same, she would tell them that she thought that they were a lovely person, which was a blatant lie, she had never paid enough attention to them to discover for herself if they were or not. And then she would tell them that she just wasn't ready to marry and that there was probably a girl better suited for them. They would nod and look down as they walked away, and a few months later she would see them walking around with one of the other village girls, or even getting married. The conversations had dwindled into nothing in the past few months, most of the men had gotten married, or had finally understood that she did not plan on becoming anyone's bride.

When she had finally reached her hut the sky was turning purple. The pink and gold of the sunset had gone unnoticed as she had been drifting in her own thoughts. The hut itself was simple. It only had essentials. She did not need fancy things. The only thing that claimed the hut was hers was her old white priestess garb. It hung on the back wall as a silent reminder.

She had very few possessions. A few hair combs and small jewelry pieces that Yukino had given her were sitting on a small table in the corner with a mirror she rarely used. A kimono, which was more elaborate than what she normally wore, but simple by anyone else's opinion, was also folded and sitting on the floor. Another gift, though this one from Shichiroji. Between the two of them she knew they were trying to get her all dressed up to find a man, or to move on. Perhaps they thought she would be happier if she found someone else.

Lying by itself on the floor beneath her old white priestess garb was a simple but long red-orange hair pin. It was meant to be shoved into the holes of the curved metal holder it had at one point belonged with but she did not have that. This pin had been given to her by Komachi, though she had no idea how the girl had gotten a hold of it, and quite honestly she didn't really want to know either.

Kirara slowly bent down and picked it up, a nightly ritual. She shifted the pin between her fingers staring at it silently._ Katsushiro_. It had been his. Not only had she recognized it by its looks, but when she had first received it, the pin had a single dark blue-green strand wrapped around it. She kept the pin as a reminder of all things she had wanted to say, and hadn't had the chance to, or hadn't had the courage to. He had turned and left that night. A night that was engraved into her mind forever.

His goodbye had been heart wrenching and the tears that she had shed that night had felt as if they had burned as they made a trail down her cheek. She had been foolish, as she had been during all of that adventure. Her devotion towards a man she hero worshiped clouding her own heart from what had been there from the moment she had met him. Now she would give anything to go back and actually return the kiss she had received in the dark of that alley way. He had sacrificed his innocence for her, and in return she had crushed his heart. It wasn't until later that she realized the damage she had done to herself with her actions.

With a sigh and a frown she rolled the pin between her fingers before placing the thing back down on the floor where it belonged. She then moved to make herself a simple dinner before she began to ready herself for bed. Yes, rice and a few simple vegetables would do. She didn't want to think about him right now. She would have enough of that in the next few days, and she had already brought herself down enough with her own thoughts throughout the rest of the day. So, without further delay she began her work chopping the vegetables and heating the water over her meager fire.

No, she would not be attending the meeting tonight or any night for that matter. And she knew that no one was expecting her there either...

* * *

><p>Please review, and if you see any spelling errors or missing words please tell me so that I may correct them immediately.<p> 


End file.
